One cold day in January a friend and I went to a cocktail party in Rosedale. We dressed to impress, especially since it was the engagement party of Sarah’s ex. Naturally, in her desperate attempt to get through this painful night, Sarah hooked up with a gorgeous real estate agent. So, there I sat alone in the kitchen with my dirty martini trying to reflect on why I agreed in coming to this function.
Then I was approached by this beautiful man. Just shy of 6 feet and well dressed, I finally found a good reason not to leave. His name was Dave, and he was a stock broker. Gorgeous and rich, how could I go wrong? His beautiful white smile captivated me and his salt and pepper hair made me swoon. Before I knew it I agreed with going on a date with Mr. Perfect.
A week later, after many late night phone calls and twice as many cute text messages, I was finally able to meet Mr. Perfect again. He decided to take me out to the Reservoir Lounge for some great drinks and live jazz. And after a wonderful evening of flirting we headed back to his beautiful condo. Mr. Perfect had a perfect condo as well. The glass walls looked out into the middle of Dundas Square, the heart of the city I love. And after he made us a few Lychee martinis we teared up the sheets.
After a month of what seemed, well perfect, Dave disappeared. Mr. Perfect seduced me and left with hardly a good-bye. So once Sarah caught wind that this amazing man had disappeared from my life she planned a night in with lots of vodka. Once she handed me my dirty martini she mentioned, “For someone who was just dumped by Mr. Perfect you seem to be doing ok!” I just looked at her, smiling over my martini and said, “Well I might have lost my perfect man, but I found something better. My perfect condo!”